Chapter 70: How Could Anything Compare to the Sweetness of Your Life?

“What place is that?”
“No place can compare to this one.” North Demon Bell was dressed as provocatively as ever.

Her sleeves were crafted from crimson silk, the sheer fabric beneath hinting at the allure of her skin. The nearly form-fitting outfit left little to the imagination, easily leading minds astray. In her hand, she still held that bell-drum, which chimed crisply with every sway.

A violet scented veil covered her face, while her hair was adorned with multicolored ornaments, making her look extra radiant.

The moment she appeared, Wen Jinge’s gaze was utterly transfixed.

Lu Wei coughed.

But Wen Jinge remained lost in thought.

“Oh, Master.” Receiving a look, Liang Si gave his master a nudge. “Master, please stay focused.”

“So this is Immortal Wen of Wanzhang Peak?”

Wen Jinge’s identity was special. Portraits of her, along with the other seven peak lords of Xuanyun Sect, circulated daily among the upper echelons of the Demon Clan. Studying their faces was a mandatory lesson for any competent demon. Only by committing these portraits to memory could they, when the Demon Lord resurfaced, throw these righteous figures into chaos.

When that day came, the world would no longer hinder the Demon Clan’s rise. No longer would they skulk like vermin in the shadows; one day, they too would dance in the sunlight.

At this thought, North Demon Bell couldn’t help but laugh aloud.

It wasn’t childish bravado—rather, she’d just discovered that Wen Jinge was now only at the ninth rank.

Ninth rank! That was even weaker than the newly admitted sweeper apprentices outside the sect—what could she possibly do?

This was the trump card painstakingly cultivated and chosen by the Diviner, the only one who might stand against their Demon Lord—once a prodigy, now just dust among the masses.

How could she not be delighted? “Ninth rank! Hahahaha—so even you, Immortal Wen, have fallen so low!”

North Demon Bell’s laughter was distinctive, ringing clear like silver bells, crisp and bright, reminiscent of plums tapping on icy porcelain, coolly fragrant and, like her name, tinged with seductive wickedness that bewitched all who heard it.

Wen Jinge did not laugh. Yet her gaze was tinged with entrancement, as if she’d fallen into an aromatic cauldron of carp soup.

Red silk as broth, flawless skin as shimmering slices of flesh, a beauty’s form undulating as fish bones rose and sank, gently simmered, the fish slices tumbled, boiling water bubbling, fragrance wafting everywhere.

Wen Jinge’s eyes grew ever more entranced.

She was hungry.

Seeing this, North Demon Bell’s smile widened. She shook the bell-drum in her hand, casting a provocative glance at Qiao Yu and Liang Si, then began to dance, her words both flippant and alluring. “Immortal Wen, won’t you fall into darkness with me?”

“Yes!” Wen Jinge’s cheeks flushed deeper—a normal reaction to the effects of demonic music.

Her expression was dazed; she had no idea what she was doing, nor did she realize the trap awaiting her ahead. Step by step, she was walking right down the enemy’s carefully laid path.

Lu Wei tugged at her, but even in her soul-state, Wen Jinge possessed great strength. With a single punch, he was sent flying.

North Demon Bell’s smile was radiant, her voice intoxicating. “Elder, come here! You’re surrounded by nothing but villains.”

Lu Wei’s face twisted with worry. He turned to Liang Si, but alas, Wen Jinge’s eldest disciple was loyal to a fault.

Once again, he realized his trust had been misplaced.

“Master will be fine!” Liang Si’s eyes shone with an unshakeable conviction.

His master might not be the best in front of outsiders, but to him, she was always the greatest. Would she really fall for such a petty temptation?

“I don’t believe you at all!”

“Um…” Liang Si meekly raised his hand. “In my dreams, my master practiced the Ghost Path.”

Lu Wei gritted his teeth, wanting to retort, but suddenly found it meaningless.

Causing trouble with Wen Jinge by his side had always been entertaining, but being on the receiving end was less so. He had no desire to be tormented further.

Yet what happened next was beyond everyone’s expectations.

Lu Wei nearly wished to gouge out his own eyes.

And as for North Demon Bell, she wished she’d never learned to smile.

The more she smiled, the harder she fell.

“You, what do you think you’re doing?” Her voice quivered with panic.

The scene felt oddly familiar. Once, someone had behaved toward her in just this way. Right—she’d come here for Qiao Yu and that scoundrel man.

What was his name again?

The Six-Fingered Demon Zither!

“Your clothes are beautiful,” Wen Jinge murmured, inhaling deeply, utterly intoxicated by her scent. She clung to her like a drunken fool, grinning, stars shining in her eyes. “I like them. Hee hee, I really like them.”

North Demon Bell eyed the drool at the corner of her mouth, beginning to suspect she’d encountered a fake Wen Jinge.

As she spaced out, she found herself pinned to the ground. Then, her silk sleeves were torn.

Wen Jinge seemed to delight in the sound of fabric ripping—again and again she tore. North Demon Bell endured as long as she could, but finally lost all patience.

Just as she tried to rise, she was pushed back down. “You—you scoundrel!”

Having grown up among demons, North Demon Bell was accustomed to all manner of wickedness. As the Demon Saintess, she was never subjected to such liberties. Wen Jinge was not only shameless and reckless, but also a woman—this was a first for her.

She panicked, but then her confidence returned. “Guards!”

“Why call anyone? Isn’t it nice with just the two of us?”

“You! You!”

“Don’t be upset, now, good girl.” Wen Jinge, recalling the clothes she’d snatched last time, retrieved them from her storage pouch with a laugh, draping them over North Demon Bell. “I have plenty more—come, let’s keep tearing.”

Lu Wei covered Liang Si’s eyes and crouched in a corner, not daring to make a sound.

Something was wrong with Wen Jinge, but he was certain she was fully conscious.

She was just playing.

Just loved watching him worry and fret.

The moment North Demon Bell saw that garment, her expression changed. This was the key to her foothold in this illusion. She’d relied on that outfit to send an avatar into the Formless Illusion Realm to lie low, only for her great plan to be ruined by someone whose face she hadn’t seen clearly.

That person was her very target now.

“It was you?”

“Oh my!” Wen Jinge clapped her hands, her eyes red, her face flushed, mumbling a children’s song. “You drugged me and don’t even know who I am?”

North Demon Bell felt deeply offended.

When an emperor is enraged, corpses litter the field; when a saintess is furious, bones pile up for miles.

Had it been anyone else, she would have killed them instantly, ground them to dust as a demon zither would crush an old priest.

But Wen Jinge—she’d worked herself to death, only to be kidnapped by a system; she’d risked her life again and again, only for strange powers to manifest within her; cheating death, she now faced all sorts of prohibitions threatening her life at every turn.

What could she do? She could only keep playing her games. The result? She’d angered a whole crowd of people who wanted her dead.

But at this point, what’s one more debt? Wen Jinge was utterly unbothered.

In fact, she wanted to cause an even greater scene.

So, seeing the demon followers appear, she remained completely unruffled.

She even winked at the captive Wang Xi and Yang Wennan. “Who are those two?”

“…”

Wang Xi and Yang Wennan: It’s over. Our master’s lost her mind.

North Demon Bell fumed. Then, discovering another use for her bell-drum, she began swinging it at Wen Jinge with wild abandon. Unfortunately, Wen Jinge was nimble and slight, a master at slipping through cracks.

“Don’t you care about your disciples’ lives?” North Demon Bell roared, all dignity as the Demon Saintess ground into the dirt.

“No. Their lives aren’t nearly as enticing as yours.”